


Path That Leads To You

by Anie6142



Series: Like A Love Song [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, David Cassidy is responsible, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Jealousy, M/M, Mentioned Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Mentioned Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Not Actually Unrequited Love, being my own beta, so is Adam Levine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anie6142/pseuds/Anie6142
Summary: Geralt takes time to reflect and goes to search for Jaskier. During the five years it takes him for their paths to cross again, he looks back at the twenty-two years he and Jaskier had together. Coming to the realization on what the Bard himself means to him. And how much he fucked up.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Like A Love Song [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635388
Comments: 17
Kudos: 304





	Path That Leads To You

**Author's Note:**

> So, somehow, I ended up drafting this and the next thing I knew it was 7 in the morning.  
> I blame Adam Levine and David Cassidy for this one.  
> It took me a while to understand Geralt's characterization a bit. I'm sure he's more true to his feelings inside his head since vocalizing them would require torture.  
> Hmm.  
> Please enjoy.

Geralt stood there in the mountain for hours. His anger had been quick to appear but slow to go, and when he finally got a clear head, not only was the moon high in the sky and stars scattered all over, he was met with the realization he had fucked up.

Big time.

The words that had come out of his mouth were harsher than the ones he normally threw at Jaskier, and Jaskier had always been quick to retort back at him. But this time, the bard didn’t do much, just accepted the words he said and left him alone. There was no fight in the few sentences he told to Geralt before he passed him and went down the mountain path.

As much as Jaskier had annoyed him with his incessant chatter and knack for getting himself in trouble, Geralt could admit, at least to himself, that Jaskier was his friend, or as Jaskier liked to call himself, his best friend. But, that’s not how one was supposed to treat their friends.

Geralt decided to walk down the path and he will talk to Jaskier, he was bound to see him sooner than later, either while walking down the mountain itself or when he reached the tavern, and from there things could go back to what they were before.

Right?

* * *

Geralt arrived at the tavern, it had taken him a couple days to reach down and was surprised at not hearing a lute playing. Once he got in, chatter ceased for a few moments, the patrons looked his way for a few seconds then went back to their own conversations. Geralt looked around, but there was no sight of Jaskier. Had Jaskier still been on the mountain Geralt would have seen him, or at least scent him. No matter where he went Jaskier always managed to smell of wildflowers and lavender and a scent that was completely unique to the bard. Something beyond the smudged ink on his fingertips from his songwriting, behind the linseed oil he used on his Elven lute, it was something that could be considered familiar yet so distant.

Geralt didn’t dare to linger on those thoughts.

He went to the bar and ordered an ale, placing coins to pay for it. The barkeep glared at him but served him the ale just the same. Geralt took a sip and refrained from commenting on the taste, clearly watered down.

“Figured you all would have died, only the dwarves came down.” Said the barkeep taking the coins and wiping the counter with a rag.

“Hmm.”

“Tsk.” The barkeep just went back to cleaning the counter and serving other patrons ale and food.

Geralt stood there, trying to distinguish between the many scents of the tavern and see if the bard had at least been there or taken one of the rooms upstairs, but nothing indicated Jaskier had even stopped by.

“Has a bard come by?” Geralt asked the barkeep, annoyance clear in the eyes of the old man.

“Bard? Wasn’t he with ye?”

“Yes.”

“Hadn’t seen ‘im.”

Geralt wishes that the pit in his stomach was only worry and not just guilt, assuming the bard had taken the long way back, Geralt pays for a room and waits for Jaskier to arrive.

* * *

Geralt stayed at the tavern for three days and there was still no sign of Jaskier.

Somehow, Jaskier had managed to give him the slip, and was probably now long gone into the next town and Geralt had been waiting for his return like a fool.

Geralt went back to Roach and prepared his bags before he saddled and rode away from that place.

* * *

When Geralt reached the next town, he went straight for the tavern, completely ignoring the notice board outside to look for any jobs. He sat on a stool at the counter, paid for an ale, then asked the barkeep if the bard had been there.

“Bard? Yes, but we kicked him out after he got too drunk to walk and refused to sing anything that wasn’t a fucking sad love song. Not that the song was bad, but he should’ve read the room before he started singing that nonsense.”

“Did he rent a room?”

“Not that I know of. Maybe at the inn down the street.”

Geralt nodded at the man, finished his ale and got out the tavern to look for Jaskier.

He wasn’t there either.

Before he could leave town he was pushed into a job, getting rid of some ghouls plaguing the cemetery.

He left as soon as he got his coin for the job.

The lack of chatter was beginning to bother him.

Fuck.

* * *

At the next town it was practically the same story.

Jaskier had come into the tavern, had gotten drunk, sang a sad ballad, and was promptly kicked out.

This time though, someone had heard and liked the song well enough and was now singing it to the crowd.

Geralt recognized some of the lyrics, it was the song Jaskier was writing before they got into the whole mess with the dragon.

Before Geralt put his foot in his mouth and made not only Yennefer to go, it also pushed Jaskier away.

He was sure it was supposed to be a happy song, but it looks like at the last minute Jaskier had changed it into a sorrowful ballad.

The pit in his stomach was unbearable due to the guilt.

He tried to leave again but another job was pushed at him, delaying his journey.

If only he didn’t have any morals he would leave the townspeople to their own fate against the monsters, but a nagging voice in the back of his head, a too familiar voice, prevented him from that.

_“You’re too good to leave them alone.”_

Fuck.

* * *

He had come to learn that the song Jaskier had been singing was titled “ _Her Sweet Kiss_ ” and after listening to the lyrics after oh so many times now, _how long has it been now since he last saw Jaskier?_ , he came to understand that the song was about Yennefer and himself.

What he didn’t understand, its how in any way was Yennefer the culprit.

He was the arse that tied her to him in the first place.

If anything, Jaskier should be dissing him, not Yennefer.

Or was he getting the song wrong?

* * *

In the 22 years he has known Jaskier, he has heard all the songs and poems the man had composed.

Songs about him which were more lies than truth but had at least made his image a bit less hostile to the public eye, _he’ll give the bard that_ , and songs about love and other things he didn’t really bother with.

And yet.

He remembers a couple instances, in which the bard had been playing a song.

A song he clearly didn’t want anyone to hear.

Because the times Geralt had heard it, was always when the bard was sure, _or so he thought_ , Geralt wasn’t near.

* * *

It was the next time he and Jaskier had seen each other after the Drowners almost took his arse down at the lake, the bard _thought_ it was safe enough for a soak, but clearly it showed he didn’t listen much to what Geralt says, Drowners are almost always near water, regardless of how clear the water is, like every other water-dwelling creature. Jaskier had been acting a little off that day, distracted but not entirely lost on his thoughts, but Geralt could see how his eyes would drift up in thought while singing at the tavern that night, and the small irregularity of his heart was another giveaway that he was thinking about something. When Jaskier told him it was because of a new song he took it in stride. He was sure he was bound to listen to said song sooner or later either way. Besides, asking the bard about the song would probably just land him into a long rant about it and he preferred a bit of silence at nighttime. Though the silence had almost been deafening that night when Jaskier had massaged his sore muscles and hadn’t uttered a single word. He said thanks at least. _Had he ever thanked the bard before?_

He should return the favor one of these days.

Though he probably wouldn’t do such a good job.

Those hands callused by strings had a strength that was hidden underneath the guise of a simple musician, and yet, it had made the stress from his body vanish like magic.

How did a bard knew how to work muscles like that, not to mention how to suture and bandage wounds, was something he couldn’t comprehend.

He wasn’t going to dwell on that.

Or his hands.

Especially his hands.

They had set up camp and Jaskier was to light the fire while Geralt went to look for something to eat, preferably rabbit since squirrels were annoying chit-chattering fuckers, plus rabbits had more meat. Geralt had found two fat ones and started to head back to camp when he heard it.

A lively melody coming from the strings of Jaskier’s Elven lute.

It was different from the usual songs Jaskier played, he could tell that much, the melody not only was lively, it had a slight melancholy underneath it, it was almost soft. Not the kind of song to liven up a crowd, definitely not for a bunch of drunkards.

He got closer, but as soon as he stepped on a branch, Jaskier stopped, a discordant cord played for less than a second, then he started playing again.

 _A completely different song_.

He walked closer and could hear the rabbit-fast beat of Jaskier’s heart but his face was as calm as could be. Once he was on the sightline of Jaskier’s face he was greeted.

“Geralt! Took your time, I was starting to starve!” Jaskier said with enthusiasm.

Too much enthusiasm.

“Hmm.”

Geralt decided to not ask.

* * *

There was now a pattern.

Whenever Jaskier and Geralt met up, be it weeks or months in between. And only when they were to set up camp while going towards another town, village, or city.

Never at an inn or tavern.

Not even on the dreaded Cintra ball that got him tied up to an unborn child.

Every time Geralt would go get dinner.

 _Every single time_.

Jaskier would play that song.

And would stop abruptly if he was made aware of Geralt’s presence, then start playing something else entirely.

It was beginning to get on Geralt’s nerves.

He didn’t even understand himself. It was just one of the many songs Jaskier wrote.

Geralt had tried to be sneaky.

He really did.

But somehow, _something_ would always alert the bard of his presence.

A critter jumping out.

Birds scattering through the branches.

A branch he was sure _wasn’t_ there before when he set to find food for the both of them.

Hell, even roars from monsters that decided their presence had to be known.

Jaskier wasn’t telling him anything about the song, _what was about that song that he didn’t want the Witcher to listen to it?_

He could always ask.

But that would require him to let the bard acknowledge he had been listening, not to mention that it irritated him _not knowing_.

So Geralt decided to stay hidden, a good distance away from the camp, but close enough to listen to the bard. He heard the bard stop playing his scales.

And waited.

“Geralt? Are you there?” asked Jaskier tentatively, not raising his voice.

Geralt didn’t move a muscle.

He waited a bit more and then he heard it.

The music started to play.

But then-

_“I’m sleeping_

_And right in the middle of a good dream_

_And all at once I wake up_

_From something that keeps knocking at my brain”_

Jaskier was singing.

_“Before I go insane_

_I hold my pillow to my head_

_And spring up in my bed_

_Screaming out the words I dread_

_I think I love you”_

The way Jaskier had said ‘ _I love you_ ’ tug at something inside of him.

_“This morning_

_I woke up with this feeling_

_I didn’t know how to deal with_

_And so I just decided to myself_

_I’d hide it to myself and never talk about it_

_And did not go and shout it when you walked into the room_

_I think I love you”_

Why did it feel so wrong to listen?

_“I think I love you_

_So what am I so afraid of?_

_I’m afraid that I’m not sure of_

_A love there is no cure for_

_I think I love you_

_Isn’t that what life is made of?_

_Though it worries me to say_

_That I never felt this way”_

Jaskier was in _love_.

_“I don’t know what I’m up against_

_I don’t know what it’s all about_

_I got so much to think about-”_

A freaking rabbit decided to run past Geralt and close to the camp. Jaskier stopped playing completely. He heard a deep sigh and a frustrated groan from the bard. It looks like he won’t be finishing singing the song.

Not once in his life had Geralt been so pissed at a fucking rabbit.

* * *

Geralt tried his strategy again the next time.

But Jaskier refused to play that song again.

Geralt never got to hear the last lyrics of the song.

* * *

Four years passed between them and the next time Geralt saw Jaskier was when he was fishing for the amphora that contained the Djinn.

He was sleep deprived, the unfinished song decided to turn up out of nowhere inside his head when trying to sleep, _taunting him_.

He clearly wasn’t thinking straight, so desperate to find anything to get his suffering to end.

After he got his rest, he was going to wish to know the rest of that _goddamned song_ so it could finally leave him _alone_.

Jaskier was talking to him now, about some Countess of whatever.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

That’s whom the song was about.

Well, one mystery solved.

But somehow, instead of some peace what he felt was _anger_.

It didn’t help at all when Jaskier got the wishes and started saying nonsense.

Fuck Valdo Marx alright.

But the _Countess?_

Geralt just about snapped.

“I just want some damn peace!”

Geralt should have really listened to the saying ‘ _careful what you wish for_ ’, because once Jaskier started to spit blood.

He was sure his heart had stopped.

_Fuck!_

* * *

Something changed.

He didn’t know what, but something changed between Jaskier and himself.

It happened right after he and Jaskier had gotten out of Rinde. Jaskier all the while was talking about how he was glad to get out of that place and how he hoped to never encounter Yennefer again.

He didn’t call her by her name, he called her ‘ _power-hungry dick-chopping crazy sorceress_ ’.

Whatever Yennefer had said to Jaskier, it had sure soured whatever gratitude Jaskier might have felt towards her. She saved his life after all.

All he knew, was that there was a note of sadness on Jaskier. Whenever he played or he stayed silent for too long, _which was in itself a feat and also worrying as fuck_ , he could sniff it under Jaskier’s usual scent.

Geralt was sure Jaskier would tell him eventually what was bothering him, he always talked about his emotions openly unlike Geralt. But Jaskier remained silent.

This brought on a headache.

Of _fucking_ course.

* * *

Jaskier had been working on a new song.

This one he knew about.

Another love song, but why he was graced with the knowledge of this one he’ll never know.

But then he was shoved into a nonsense about dragons from this old man Borch and his weapons Téa and Véa after one of them killed one of the idiots that hired him when they tried to steal not only his valuables but also try to take Roach.

He was thankful of course, if they hadn’t been there those bastards would have probably hurt Jaskier.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to partake in a fucking hunt for a Dragon that didn’t exist.

Jaskier was clearly annoyed with the Dragon hunt, Geralt had been at first when he was proposed with the idea too and was ready to leave with Jaskier and leave Borch and his weapons behind when _she_ walked into the room.

The scent of lilac and gooseberries was dizzying.

He stupidly said yes to go with Borch on the hunt.

He barely registered the smell of wilted wildflowers and lavender in the air.

* * *

Jaskier was talking about going to the coast and get away for a while.

It was so tempting.

Jaskier seemed to be hating this hunt was much if not more as Geralt, probably not because of the same reasons why Geralt was hating this.

The thought of leaving the Path behind, even for just a short while, felt almost _liberating_.

Jaskier seemed to want to say more.

But he held his tongue.

So unlike him.

* * *

It’s been well over a year, maybe more, time was hard to grasp, and after the Battle of Sodden he had found her.

Or more like, they had found eachother.

Her name was Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, The Lion Cub of Cintra.

His Child Surprise.

Now, if he could only find his fleeting songbird to accompany his little swallow.

Things would be better.

He missed the conversation.

* * *

It had been 5 years.

He still hadn’t found Jaskier.

He knew he was alive.

He might not have seen the bard in so long, but he heard him alright.

Or rather, he heard lesser bards and singers sing his ballads and recite his poems around the continent and the Northern Kingdoms. He was glad that it seemed that Nilfgaard hadn’t got to him. It was still too soon to say Ciri would be safe travelling.

It hadn’t been easy.

But now she was at Kaer Morhen training with Vesemir and Yennefer.

He was so glad Yennefer hadn’t died, but what they had was long over. They couldn’t trust their feelings for each other since they were bound by magic. They remained friends, but when they had their nights of passion, it felt _wrong_ , it felt as if a wilted flower was stuck in his throat and so they decided to break their physical relationship for good.

Right now, he was in the search for the bard.

It had been way too long.

An apology long overdue on the tip of his tongue.

He wasn’t going to rest until he found Jaskier and the bard had been back at his rightful place next to the Witcher.

He wasn’t sure if Jaskier was still his friend, because the feelings he had came to acknowledge, seemed to lead to something beyond platonic, beyond friendship.

Jaskier had been there for his darkest moments and nights. From Renfri haunting his dreams to when he was too slow to save someone from a monster.

He always blamed himself.

But Jaskier had always managed to bring him back, if only for just a moment.

But a moment was enough.

Now, his guilt towards his best friend was tormenting him in his sleep.

He was hearing his voice in his dreams and that damned song he never heard finished kept playing over and over in his mind.

He only hoped that it wouldn’t be too late when he found Jaskier.

* * *

He stopped at Oxenfurt, a vague memory reminded him that this was Jaskier’s Alma Mater, he would stop at a tavern to have something to eat and let Roach rest and then go ask at the university if they knew about Jaskier’s last whereabouts.

He let Roach on a stable on the side of the inn he was going to stay at that night and went towards the tavern.

He was about to get inside when he heard patrons yelling.

“None of that sad shite Professor! If you’re gonna play some shite love song it better be cheery!” yelled a gruff voice from inside.

“Hell, even that one about the lass and her kiss would be better than that!” yelled someone else.

Just what Geralt needed, another musician playing Jaskier’s songs.

He was about to go straight back to the inn when the next voice stopped him dead on his tracks.

“Alright! Hell, I might just as well play this _one_. Feel honored gentlemen, this one has never been heard before and it’s a Dandelion original.”

“Better be Master Bard!”

The bard started playing, playing that _one_ song that has been haunting Geralt for some time now.

He had found him.

At last!

_“I’m sleeping_

_And right in the middle of a good dream_

_And all at once I wake up_

_From something that keeps knocking at my brain_

_Before I go insane_

_I hold my pillow to my head_

_And spring up in my bed_

_Screaming out the words I dread_

_I think I love you_

_This morning_

_I woke up with this feeling_

_I didn’t know how to deal with_

_And so I just decided to myself_

_I’d hide it to myself and never talk about it_

_And did not go and shout it when you walked into the room_

_I think I love you_

_I think I love you_

_So what am I so afraid of?_

_I’m afraid that I’m not sure of_

_A love there is no cure for_

_I think I love you_

_Isn’t that what life is made of?_

_Though it worries me to say_

_That I’ve never felt this way…_

_I don’t know what I’m up against_

_I don’t know what it’s all about_

_I got so much to think about_

_Hey! I think I love you!_

_So what am I so afraid of?_

_I’m afraid that I’m not sure of_

_A love there is no cure for_

_I think I love you!_

_Isn’t that what life is made of?_

_Though it worries me to say_

_I never felt this way_

_Believe me! You really don’t have to worry_

_I only wanna make you happy_

_And if you say ‘hey go away’, I will_

_But I think better still_

_I’d better stay around and love you_

_Do you think I have a case?_

_Let me ask you to your face_

_Do you think you love me?_

_I think I love you!_

_I think I love you!_

_I think I love you!_

_I think I love you!_

_I think I love you!_

_I think I love you!”_

Jaskier finished his song, with energy Geralt hadn’t heard in a while. The patrons loved it and cheered.

The final lyrics of the song finally made everything make sense.

Geralt finally understood.

The song wasn’t for some Countess or anybody else.

_It was-_

The door opened and right in front of him.

Untouched by the waves of time.

Just as how he was when he was eighteen.

Just how when he was forty.

Not a single wrinkle around those cornflower blue eyes nor a single gray hair on his soft brown locks.

He stared; blue eyes wide in surprise.

The smell of wildflowers, lavender, _Jaskier_.

Of _home_.

“Geralt.”

It felt like a breath of fresh air.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not over.  
> The 'fix-it' will happen.  
> Just not yet.  
> Thank you for reading.  
> Comments are much appreciated.


End file.
